To My Brothers
by RelaxedReady
Summary: Fluffy, funny, from the heart - with a sprinkle of Raphael/Leo relationship, Apriltello, and good-natured ribbing. * Leonardo thinks he has it all under control while Master is away visiting April's cabin. * Leonardo, Raphael, Donatello, Michelangelo * ONE SHOT * Slice of life in the sewer * COMPLETE


"C'mon guys, everyone's home and in one piece. Master would be proud." Leo rested his feet in Raphael's empty chair.

Gathering the playing cards strewn around the kitchen table, Mikey deadpanned. "Better call to make sure, brah."

Leonardo considered the odds. "April said the cabin has bad reception. And, besides, it's late." The clock read one AM.

Admiring the Poconos peaks and valleys a little too closely, Don caressed his phone screen. "I wish we all coulda gone."

"Really, D? All of us? I'd prefer an exclusive with April, if yanno what I mean?"

Don clenched up. "Shut up, Mikey."

"Just me, April, and a camera."

"I said stop it; she would never do that."

"Nah, that girl's a _freak_."

Donatello flipped Mike's wrist over and the whole idiot followed.

The playing cards rained down on Michelangelo, now on his knees at The Don's mercy. "Ow-OW, don't break it! I'm sorry."

Leo scowled assessing the grip on Mike's straining tendons. The Leader let the guillotine fall. "Donnie knows what he's doing."

Suspenders heaving, Don thrust Mikey back into his chair. "Don't ever call her that, again."

"Dude, I was just joking, okay? I didn't know you loved her."

Don slid down in his chair almost as if he planned to escape by puddling on the floor. He sounded wishy-washy. "I don't love her."

Mikey let out a gail of laughter, "You almost twisted my arm off, Don Juan! Oh, my god, I cant believe I called it."

Leo shut down Michelangelo's grand standing and clapped Don's shell with solidarity. "We will always defend the Hogosha's honor."

Don agreed with a small smile.

Michelangelo's fit ended with a choked gasp. "Raph!"

Wearing street clothes, Number Two walked in the kitchen smelling like the top side of NYC.

"No, you did not!" Leo jumped up from the head of the table.

Trapped in between two eighteen-wheelers, the speed bumps, Mike and Don, exchanged a look.

Raphael strolled up to the opposing end of the table and plopped two brown, grocery sacks down. A grin crept over his face as he sat, balancing on the back chair legs. "Ya miss me?"

That rattled Leo's cage. His nostrils flared, and he gripped the edge of the table ready to flip out.

Don wigged first. "Fucking pop-tarts!" The hungry turtle dove into the sundries and clutched a brightly colored box. "I love _you_ , Raph."

Leonardo snarled. "Shut up, Don!" Then, he bared his fangs at Red. "You said you were in your room!"

"Yea. I was. Then, I went out. And, I scored _big_. You're welcome." Translation: Fuck you, Leo.

Donatello folded a cold, iced pastry into his mouth. He offered the box to Mikey as if to say, smoke 'em if you got 'em.

Leonardo smacked the Pop-Tarts out of sight. "Ronin scum!"

"Da'fuq you say?" Raphael's chair screeched across the floor.

"We're not keeping this."

This was a big upset for the crowd. Mike and Don lost The World Cup for a minute.

Leo over-ruled. "I've made the decision. Now, maybe next time Mr. Responsible decides to leave, he'll tell me."

"This shit was meant for us!" Raphael calmed the kids. "It's okay, we're keepin' it."

"No, we're taking this shit to the shelter."

"Whoa, I'm hungry, Leo! Hello?" Mikey waved his arms. "The hell are you talkin' about the shelter?

Raphael's voice leveled out as he coaxed a grocery bag across the table. "Okay, Mr. Reasonable, why don't ya look what else's in there, huh? Please?"

That hit Leo right in his solar plexus. The Leader slid down an imaginary wall into his chair.

Following suit, everyone sat down.

Leonardo pulled out a bag of M & M's, and slack-jawed, he had to block his heart from melting through his plastron.

Raphael put a cherry on top. "Ya deserve something sweet."

Admiring the fireworks, Mikey giggled and clapped his finger pads together lightly,

Ole Blue choked up like he was watching another Lifetime movie. "How'd you get all this stuff?"

"I gave some assholes some advice, and they left me a tip."

Leonardo caressed the candy wrapper, admitting, "Just one, I always wanted to try one."

"I know." Red nodded. "Me, too."

"Thank you." Leo whispered.

Don rolled all six eyes and got up to inspect the Pop-tart box remains. Without shame, he picked up all the pieces.

Mikey finished securing his eyeballs back inside his skull. Then, he froze.

Some _Tostinos_ Pizza Rolls appeared. Raphael gave the frozen snacks to the brand-new Michelangelo statue. "Here ya go, kid."

The microwave beeped and booped.

The bale of turtles munched and chewed around the table.

Red revealed a six-pack of beer. His lips met the can's silky smooth, room temperature sides. "Dis is how I knew the universe was paying us back."

Don and Mike sounded like they were stuck in space without a helmet.

The lights dimmed and flickered.

Raphael didn't give a shit about some weird-ass power surge emanating from the head of the table.

A Coors plugged into Leonardo's hand. Fearless weighed out his unopened bag of M & M's versus the beer.

Don adjusted his glasses when a can zoomed into his palm.

Mikey caught his silver bullet with the odd grace of an orangutan at feeding time.

Raphael cracked open two brews and raised one in each mit. "To my brothers."

Don and Leo's cans sprayed them with a fine mist of mountain-grown refreshment.

Michelangelo, dry as a bone, and Raphael, laughed for years; then, the lucky ones drank.

Raphael smacked his lips then winked at Blue. "I love it."

Wiping dribble from his chin, Mikey got ready to run. "That's because it tastes like ass, brah."


End file.
